


Falling Even More In Love With You

by aesthetixoxo



Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:59:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetixoxo/pseuds/aesthetixoxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis realizes he loves Harry, but maybe it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Realization Hits Me

It's on the cold train ride home to their flat that the realization hits Louis', like somebody stabbed a knife into his chest, puncturing his heart, then twisting the blade and ripping it out, beating and bloody. Except, the sensation he feels inside of him, coursing through his body like the blood that flows through his veins, feels like the moment just before he goes on stage, the moment after he comes off. And strangely, he likes it. He likes the way he feels when he looks at Harry, who is staring out the window, into the distance, eyes watching the dancing snowflakes. He likes how his skin tingles when Harry touches it, how his heart leaps through his chest when Harry smiles - especially at him. He likes the feelings, and he likes Harry.

After the train ride, he refuses to speak to Harry, ignoring his questions about 'Do you want to watch a movie?' and 'I know the train ride was long but you slept in my lap the whole time. How are you possibly tired?', and heads up to his room, pulling the duvet to his ears. Snowy winters were so much warmer with Harry next to him, but he needs time to think. He thinks so hard and so long he finally falls asleep, and when he wakes up, he feels a presence. He slowly opens his eyes to seeing Harry standing at the door, studying him attentively. When he sees Louis' awake, he smiles. "Hungry?" Harry inquires, and Louis shakes his head, still determined to ignore Harry.

Well, determination doesn't pay off well because by lunchtime he's starving and he really wants one of Harry's omelets, but Harry's left for one reason or another so he's forced to fend for himself. He gets out everything that he's seen Harry uses (eggs, mushrooms, peppers), and tries, but fails, to cook it. Thankfully Harry comes back just in time for him not to burn the house down. Harry sniffs the second he opens the door, rolling his eyes. "Really, Lou, you couldn't wait for me? Perfectly good food wasted." He grumbles. Then he sees Harry's lips tug at the end, and he knows he's not really in trouble.

"Sorry Haz - I didn't know when you'd be home." Louis says, and Harry's coming to him. With every step Harry takes, his heart pounds. He prays silently to whatever god is up there that Harry can't hear it, can't hear what he's thinking, because if he could, he'd surely die of embarrassment. He feels Harry's arms wrap around him even before he sees them, and he watches as Harry turns the front burner off and disposes of the burned contents. "Let me show how a professional does it." Louis snickers, but nods.

Louis' does watch for a couple of minutes, mostly because of Harry. Cooking is boring, unless it's one of those American telly programmes, like Cupcake Wars or Cake Boss. Hell's Kitchen is also one of Louis' favorite, mainly because he likes the drama. After Harry puts the mixture into the pan, Louis' takes a seat at their dining room table, and bites his lip, narrowing his eyebrows. It's one of those looks that tells you not to interrupt him, so when Harry's done, he gives Louis' a plate and sits down across from him, trying not to look at Louis'. Every time their eyes meet, he feels slightly embarrassed because Louis' is staring.

Harry interrupts Louis' concentration by clearing his throat. "Uh, so, do you have any plans for today?" He asks, spearing a piece of green vegetable and yellow egg with his fork, shoving the mixture into his mouth. "I was thinking we could go to this concert in Loughton since we haven't done that in a while. It's not really a well known band, but I think you'd like it." And Louis hates that, hate sthe invitation, hates the fact that Harry is literally always thinking of him. He sighs. "I can't." He lies, the lie slipping off his tongue. After he says it, his stomach twists in guilt as Harry's face falls. "I was going to go shopping." Praying that, since Harry hates shopping, he'll decline, he then adds, "You can come along if you want."

When you think of Louis, you think of Harry. When you think of Harry, you think of Louis. That's the way it had been for a while, because they were pretty much never apart. So it's not unusual that Harry nods, "Yeah, just let me get my jumper. It's cold outside." Despite that, Louis goes without one, just wearing one of his famous striped shirt and a pair of red skinny's. Later, it comes to bite him in the ass. They're in a store that, for whatever stupid fucking reason, they have the air conditioner on, and Louis' is shivering. The snow that soaked into his beanie isn't helping. Harry senses Louis' cold, and despite the fact that he too is wearing a short sleeve shirt, takes his sweat off and gives it to Louis.

Louis tries to reject, but the bitter frost biting at his arms gets to him, and he takes it. It's much bigger, dropping like a dress over his tiny frame. It also smells very much like Harry, like a weirdly intoxicating mixture of lemongrass and Garnier Fructise shampoo. The scent of Harry both comforts and haunts him throughout their shopping trip. When he gets home, they're both exhausted, and he doesn't push Harry away when he climbs into his bed.

Louis wakes up and it's a quarter past midnight. Harry's arms around wrapped around him, embracing him tightly, and he sighs in contentment. He doesn't want to get up but he desperately needs a glass of water, so he slips out of Harry's grip and into the kitchen, taking a glass from one of the many cupboards. He turns on the faucet, feel the glass to the brim and then gulping it all down. He does this two more times, then gets back in bed.

He knows he's waken Harry when he feels his strong embrace once more. His heart flutters, and he snuggles closer to Harry, the familiar once more invading his nostrils. He looks up at Harry, who is already staring at him, and smiles softly. He can feel heat rising to his cheek. "The moon's light looks so pretty against your skin." And he knows Harry didn't say Louis looks pretty, but the fact that he even noticed something like that makes his cheeks even redder. He feels Harry's hands on the small of his back, massaging the soft flesh softly. His mouth releases a breath, sounding like a sigh, and that's when he truly knows, with all of his heart, that no, he doesn't like Harry. He loves him.


	2. Presents and Surprises

The next week, Thursday, is Louis' birthday. He thinks maybe Harry has forgotten - which seems like a foreign concept, even to Louis - because he doesn't bring it up, doesn't mention it, and doesn't mention anything of a party. Which kind of hurts because although Harry isn't his boyfriend or anything, and he doesn't really have to remember things like that, he's Louis' best friend, even more so than Niall or Liam or Zayn, even more so than Stan. So when he wakes up that Thursday morning, Harry smiling over him, he narrows his eyes, wondering what Harry's up to.

Harry was up to something, just as Louis' had suspected. For breakfast, instead of something healthy ("Gotta stay in shape," Harry would always say, then add with a dramatic wink, "For the ladies.") Harry puts a large piece of red velvet cake with cream cheese icing on his plate. Obviously Harry made the cake, like only Harry could, from scratch. On the top, iced in messy, yet somehow at the same time neat, tiny red letter 'Happy birthday Boobear'. Louis' grins, and devours the cake in seconds, with a stifled laugh from Harry.

"I got you a present also, I thought I should be the first one." Harry states, handing him a small box. Louis shakes it, putting it up to his ear to see if he can see what it is. He sets it down, staring at it as if it was about to explode, and Harry taps his foot impatiently. With a roll of his eyes, Louis pulls the bow off and rips the paper, revealing a shoe box. He lifts the lid to find a pair of navy blue toms, and the smile on his face widens. " Of course, that's not your real present. You'll be getting that tonight." He says with a wink, leaving Louis with a face as red as the cake.

Of course that's not what Harry meant, but Harry has that effect on him, where he gets all hot headed and flustered, his mouth getting dry. Later, about eleven o'clock, Harry invites the boys over, and that stupid Nick Grimshaw, and Louis' is mad at him for that, but when Harry brings out lunch, he's cooked a gourmet meal, and baked this humongous cake with white frosting and red letter, like the piece he had earlier, except this one is complete. His hatred towards Nick had dissolved and he grins, the words 'Happy Birthday Louis' glowing towards him. Of course, he uses the word 'boobear' as a term of affection, only calling him that when they're alone - except, when he's trying to make people laugh or get Louis' mad ("Tanks boobear!" had gotten him the cold shoulder for a week).

The rest of the day is just footie in the snow ("Not in the back yard!" Harry had exclaimed as they head to the door.), and movies by the fire, and Louis couldn't have asked for a better birthday. Then everybody leaves and it's getting late, the sun already set, but Harry won't let him go to sleep. "You still haven't gotten your real birthday present." Was Harry's explanation. He guides Louis, eyes close, out into the back door into the freezing cold, and now he understands, kind of, why Harry didn't want them to come out her. He feels a jacket being put on him, and then Harry saying, "Open your eyes."

Louis' eyes open to reveal a wonderland. It's breathtaking; lights hung around the fence, glowing off the snow. The stars are twinkling, and somehow there are no footprints in the snow. Harry probably hung the lights from the other side, he reasons. His eyes tear up, knowing Harry put a lot of thought and effort into it. He turns to look at a bashful Harry, fiddling with his fingers, biting his lip softly. "I remember when we were talking one night after the X Facor, we were in your bunk, and I know you were probably joking, but you said you'd rather dance in the snow than be kissed in the rain, so..." Harry rambles, trailing off. Louis hears music begin to play, and Harry comes towards Louis' hand outstretched.

"Forever can never be long enough for me, feel like I've had long enough with you," The opening lyrics of a song play, and Louis takes Harry's hand in his, warm despite the cold. They make their way into the snow, footprints imprinting in the snow. They stop in the middle of the yard, and as if on cue, like Harry had somehow planned it - which, it wouldn't surprise Louis' if he had - white specks fall all around them, dotting Harry's curly hair. Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck, and Harry's arms fall to Louis' back. He has to get on his tippy toes to reach Harry's height, although Harry's seventeen and Louis turned twenty today, so he's technically older and it doesn't make since for him to be shorter. He feels Harry's soft lips against his neck, and his eyes flutter closed. They dance until they hear the radio announcer say it's ten minutes to twelve, which means Louis birthday is almost over and Christmas is just ten minutes away.

Louis wakes up to peppermint pancakes and eggnog, and a very quiet Harry, and he thinks he's done something wrong, so he doesn't say anything to Harry, although it's kind of killing him that he hasn't heard Harry's voice since before they had their dance together. And maybe that was the problem, Louis thinks. Maybe Harry knows that Louis is in love with him and maybe now he hates him and he sighs, chewing the contents of his mouth slowly. He couldn't possibly hate Louis, they were best friends. But was that even true anymore?

Harry interrupts his thoughts with a box, and Louis' rolls his eyes. "Don't you think two presents - very amazing presnts, at that - are enough?" Harry smiles his dimply smile, his eyes sparkling like the lights had against the snow, like the stars had in the sky, and Louis really could go on about how pretty they look, but instead he opens the box, revealing matching bears that both have hoodies on. The only difference is, one hoodie is pink, one is blue, and one says Harry, the other says Louis. Louis picks up the Harry one, while Harry takes the Louis' one. "Since you'll be going for a while, I figured these would keep us together, even when we're apart." And really, Harry could be the most romantic person in the history of the universe.

Only they're just friends, so Louis' smiles, and jokes, "I'll sleep with it every night." This gets a red hue to cross Harry's cheek, and Louis' smirks, satisfied that it's Harry that's embarrassed for once, instead of him. "Oh, speaking of going away, I should really get going." He says, getting up and putting his dishes in the sink. He's already packed and put his things in the trunk of the car, so he doesn't really have much to do. He gives Harry a peck on the cheek, saying a quick, "Bye, I love you." and closing the door behind him. He doesn't realize what he's said until he's in the car, and it shouldn't be a big deal, because they've jokingly said it before, but it's different this time. It's like a husband leaving his wife for work and saying it. The kiss on the cheek didn't help the matter very much. He worries the whole way to Doncaster, and when Harry doesn't pick up after four calls, he knows he's fuck up.

But then, he's playing with the girls' presents, and his phone rings, making him jump. It's Harry. He answers it with a pounding heart, and when he hears Harry's angelic voice, he smiles, exhaling the breath he'd been holding since he left their flat. "Hey, I just got to Cheshire." Harry says, and Louis nods, although Harry can't see it. "Great, tell your mum and Gem I said marry Christmas!" Harry does. "They said Marry Christmas too, they can't wait to meet you." Louis chuckles softly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I feel like your boyfriend about to meet your parents." Louis' immediately regrets saying that, and mentally notes himself to fucking think before he speaks, although he knows that won't happen. Harry just laughs, a good sign, and Louis puts down the doll he had been playing with, going up to his old room.

"I miss you, Lou." He hears Harry say, "Even though it hasn't even been a day. I just got so used to you, you know? It's really strange without you." Harry explains, and Louis hears his breathing, a reminder that he needs to breath, too. "Yeah, I miss you too, Haz. But we get to see our family after a long time of not seeing them, so that's good, isn't it?" Harry agrees and says he has to go, and Louis' swears he can hear a girl giggling. It very well might be his sister, but... He shakes his head, hanging up after a brief goodbye.

Louis' doesn't sleep well that night, not without Harry's arms around him, singing him a John Mayer song that he's never heard of but pays attention every word because it's Harry. Not without the lemon grass and Garnier Fructis, not without the steady breathing, the rhythmic heartbeat. He can't stop thinking about Harry being with some other girl. Surely he would have told Louis. Especially after what he done for his birthday. But, things aren't always what they seem.


	3. Confessions

But sometimes they are. When Harry comes back, he has a girl on his arm, - a very pretty girl, he must admit - and a smile on his face. It doesn't surprise Louis though, not really. They're famous now, and girls are always chatting them up, it's normal for Harry to take advantage of that. But the twinge of jealousy inside of him can't help but rearing it's ugly head. When Harry introduces Ginevra, Louis almost rolls his eyes, but then he remembers his plan to think before he speaks and assumes the same should go with think before acting so he shakes her hand politely.

And he's not mad at Harry, or her, he's mad at himself. He's mad at himself because he can't compete with exotic looking - and sounding- Ginevra with her long blond hair and soft pink lips and curves in all the right places. And Harry seems to like her, nipping at her ear during the movie they watch, playing footsies with her during dinner. He's not jealous, not at all, at least, not until Harry asks her to spend the night and they head off to his room. Obviously Harry's not a virgin, none of them are - teenage boys can't help themselves. But he didn't think Harry would do it with him in the flat.

He wakes up hours later, feeling even more tired than he did when he went to sleep. He expected it to be better with Harry home, but it's not, because Harry's not his anymore, at least, not his alone. He never was, and Louis' knows that, but he had just assumed with what had happened that maybe things were different now. But when you assume, you get let down. He sees the Harry bear on his night stand and grabs it, holding it to his face to block the tears that threaten to fall. It doesn't smell anything remotely like Harry - it smells like fuzz and cinnamon. Louis sighs, closing his eyes, and drifts off to sleep.

High pitch laughter rings through the house, and Louis groans. He feels sick to his stomach, and it's not just because of the though of Ginevra. He quickly leaps up and to the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet. He groans, and swallows some water, then brushes his teeth. Pasta is definitely not better the second time. He walks into the kitchen, and Harry can sense Louis' isn't feeling well, which he would normally go and hold him and stroke his hair and give him water and medicine, but he doesn't. His only explanation is Ginevra, and he has this filling only describable as guilt twisting up his stomach. Louis swallows three pills and lays down on the couch, turning on a movie while Harry sits at the table eating waffles with his precious.

She leaves after Harry whispers something in her ear, nodding with a small smile. Probably asked her to come over later, when he's alone, Louis' thinks. Harry comes and scoops Louis up in his arm, a tiny ball of Louis' in his arms. "Harry, don't, I'm sick," Louis protests, but all Harry does is roll his eyes and carry Louis up to his bedroom - Harry's bedroom. The sheets are made of silk, and it smells of Harry even more than Harry does. Even though he feels nauseous because of the fact that Ginevra was in this same spot last night, probably naked, he pulls Harry's pillow to his chest, and falls asleep, the last thing he sees is the Louis bear on Harry's night stand, just like his was. Except Harry's is holding a flower.

He wakes up a whole day later, Harry on the phone. He sounds worried. "I don't know, I thought it was a cold, but he hasn't waken up, and I don't know what to do, I just-" Harry's voice stops when he Looks at Louis, noticing he's awake. "He's awake, doc. Yeah, I'll do that." He says then hangs up the phone. The next thing Louis' knows Harry is pulling him into a hug. "I thought you were like, I don't know, about to die!" He smiles at the thought of Harry worrying about him but then frowns at the scent of roses and lavenders - perfume. He doesn't breath in Harry like he wants to, just nods and hugs back. "Yeah, no. I'm very much alive."

"I can see that. Well the doctor said to just let you rest, to drink a lot." Harry shrugs. "I bet you're not tired anymore, though. I tried waking you up several times but all I got was a slap in the face - who knew you were evil even in your sleep." A glare, then a chuckle, and they're laughing on Harry's bed, just like they had before - before things had changed. But then Harry's looking into Louis' eyes, and he can see so many emotions swimming in them, it's scary. None of these emotions are Louis' emotions. Fear, Hatred, Confusion, vulnerability. That last one tugs at Harry's heart.

He knows it's wrong - he has a girlfriend, and he doesn't like guys, for Christ sake. But then his lips are on Louis', kissing him softly, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip. For a moment he thinks things are going to get heated up, but then Louis pulls away. "I'm sick, Haz, and you've got a girlfriend, and it's- it's not right." What he was hoping Louis wouldn't say Harry sighs, nods, and calls the others boys over. Zayn's with a girl he met during the X Factor, Perrie from Little Mix. Liam's also with a girl, Danielle Peazer, who he also met during the X Factor. Niall is the only one that's free, claiming he was going to go drinking if he didn't get any better offers. Harry chuckles, nods, and then invites him over.

Of course, Niall lives a few minutes away, so during that time Harry sits on a chair beside Louis' bed, stroking his fingers across Louis' face, playing with his soft, straight hair. He's knows Louis' not asleep, he couldn't possibly be after being unconscious so long, but he knows neither of them want to talk about what happened earlier. He gets up when he hears the doorbell, explaining to Niall that Louis' is sick and Niall nods. The day is pretty boring, considering that they have a lot of money and they're famous, they could do anything they wanted almost. Harry feels better staying with Louis' though, and Niall understand, because Niall always seem to understand.

It's midnight before Niall leaves, and Harry decides to sleep on the couch - it's easier that way, he figures. His feelings are out in the open, but he should give Louis' time to think about things. Not that he had anything to think about, really, besides his best friend coming on to him. It's not a big deal really.

Things are awkward, but not as awkward as Harry had expected. Three days later it's new years eve, and they throw a huge party at their flat. Liam and Zayn share a flat with their girlfriends, so they don't want it wrecked, and Niall's flat is smaller than theirs, since it's two people living in it. Everything's going great, and Louis and Harry have both long since forgotten what happened between them. At least they had until the midnight countdown started. Louis is literally the only person without somebody. Everyone is either sober with their lovers or drunk with somebody they're probably going to go home with tonight. Louis stands their awkwardly, trying not to stare at Harry and make things even more obvious, but, well, he's Louis' and obvious is his middle name.

By the time it gets to four, Harry is leaning in to kiss Ginevra and Louis wants to run and keep running until his legs hurt and his lungs are fighting for breath. But he just stands there, amidst all the couples and bites his lips. Three... Harry's get closer. Two... Louis' going to die. One... Harry's lips ghost over his girlfriends, but then his eyes dart to Louis, and he's spinning on his heel, running off, Ginevra following suit. Louis' is really, really fucking confused, but... After the part is over, he goes straight to his room. He doesn't bother to find out what happened.

Louis groans, waking up to his phone buzzing like a nuisance. He sighs, picking up it up. He hears Harry's voice, soft and fragile, and very not Harry-like. "Louis, I'm sorry," He hears Harry say, and smiles. "I'm not sure what you're apologizing for, but It's okay Haz." Harry shakes his head, swallowing a gulp of air. "No, it's not because I think I'm in love with you and I tried not to be but I am, and I ran from my fears, and I took your car and I-" Harry stops, his voice getting even smaller. "I totaled your Porshe." Harry admits guiltily. And Louis' made but he can't e very mad when Harry just told him he loves him, that he's in love with him. "You're in love with me?" Louis inquires, looking at the ceiling. A laugh from Harry.

"Of course that's all you heard." Harry says, but then, "Yeah, I know it's... weird." He finishes lamely. "No, it's not weird. I've been wanting to tell you that since... well, I don't know since when, but for a while." They both smile. "Well, um, I already paid for the insurance and I called a tow truck, I just need to get a cab and, yeah." Louis sits up in bed, slipping on his TOMs that he left at the end of the bed. Thankfully he's still dressed. "Forget taking a shower, I'll come and get you." Harry nods, says goodbye, and hangs up. It takes him a while to find where Harry is, on the side of the road in the middle of no where almost. He gets out and takes a seat beside Harry, smile on his face. "Even after you've crashed my car, I still love you."

Harry laughs. "That reminds me of a song - how does it goes?" He thinks for a minute, then starts singing completely off key. "I got this feeling on a summer day when you were gone, I crashed my car into a bridge, I watched, I let it burn!" Louis rolls his eyes, shoving Harry playfully. "Technically, you crashed my car." He says, then pulls Harry up by his bicep. "We've got a lot we need to do, mate. The tour starting up soon." Louis says, and Harry smiles. "Yeah, I know. But there's kind of something I need to do now." Harry says, taking Louis' hands in his. As if he knows whats coming, Louis gets on his tip-toes and Harry's lips meet his.

They pull apart without a word, and get into Harry's small Prius. He's not the one that chose it - it was his mum. You always obey your mother, no matter what. They drive in a comforting silence, and when they get home, they fall asleep together on the couch, legs intertwined, Harry cradling Louis' on his chest.

And just like the moment in the train, the realization hits him. Everybody has a place, that sacred sanctuary where everything is right, where it's so quiet, yet so loud at the same time, and all the thoughts you are having come rushing at you. Louis realizes, in that tiny moment of intimacy, that Louis' place isn't quite a place, Louis home is in Harry's arms, and he'd rather be there than anywhere else in the entire universe.


End file.
